The Last of Winter
by Barneswald
Summary: Time is changing. A Cyberman lurks in the shadows. Clara Oswald's life is in danger. And Bucky Barnes just wants to find his date, Connie Oswald. (Bucky Barnes x Connie Oswald pairing.)
1. Chapter 1: The Boy Next Door

1929, New York City, Brooklyn

Connie Oswald sighed, staring up at the dismally gray sky as her feet dangled up above the ground. Digging her bare feet into the dry grass, she shoved away and up into the sky, the make-shift swing groaning even under her slight weight.

"Steve, you've got to stop doing this."

Connie continued swinging, her sharp eyes following the path of her neighbors' son. From what she remembered, he was roughly her age, as was the boy limping beside him. She pointed her toes forward, closing her eyes as the breeze brushed against her face.

"I'm fine, Bucky," Steve retorted, wiping a gob of blood from his nose. Connie blinked down at them as she soared back and forth underneath the old oak. "That poor kid didn't mean to spill the teacher's chalk."

"I know he didn't," Connie's neighbor retorted. "But it's probably not the greatest idea to throw yourself between that kid and Mr. Miles. He's a tough one."

"He's a bully," Steve snapped.

"I know, Steve. Just come inside, okay? I need to get you patched up so your mom doesn't worry," Bucky sighed.

Connie skidded to a halt, watching as the best friends disappeared inside her neighbor's house.

1932, New York City, Brooklyn

"Come on, Connie," Bucky sighed, leaning against the screen door of her house, his pants too short ever since his growth spurt in the summer. "I just need someone who's good with sewing."

"And you think I am?" Connie scoffed. "Is that because I'm a girl?"

"No, it's because you were the one who sewed that shirt for Steve when he couldn't find anything that didn't swallow him," Bucky retorted. He arched his eyebrows, frowning at her. It might have been intimidating if his voice hadn't cracked at the end of his sentence. Connie stifled a giggle, and he scowled.

"My dad wants me to bring in the firewood before he gets back from the soup kitchen," Connie sighed, shivering as a cold breeze swept through the screen door. Bucky's shoulders hunched over in an attempt to keep warm, his blue eyes staring deeply into her. Another type of shiver ran down her spine.

"I'll get the firewood," he promised. "It's too cold out here, anyway."

"You're not even wearing a coat!" she protested, opening the screen door and stubbornly standing outside in the chill January weather. Bucky frowned at her.

"Neither are you! Get back inside before I have to deal with your pneumonia, too," he snapped, gently placing his hand on her back and ushering her inside.

"Wait, at least take this," Clara demanded, grabbing her father's spare scarf and wrapping it around his neck. He blinked down at her, his breath frosty in the winter air. She realized her hands were still on his shoulders. When had he grown so tall? "I'll do the sewing," she said hastily, pulling away. Somehow, Bucky looked slightly crestfallen.

"I'll bring in the firewood," the neighbor boy replied.

1936, New York City, Brooklyn

"No, don't say things like that." Connie frowned determinedly, the ancient swing groaning and wheezing in the summer breeze.

"I'm just saying," Steve replied dryly, stifling a cough. "It's pretty obvious."

"Bucky would be the last boy on earth to want to date me, Steve," she said primly. "We're neighbors. Friends. Besides, I'm so short and he's…." She trailed off as Steve coughed again. "I'm sorry," she apologized hurriedly.

"It's fine." He shrugged again. "I'm short, too. Bucky has us both beat."

"What? I don't beat anyone!" Bucky's outraged voice called from the other house. He stuck his head out, glaring at both of them while he clutched a science textbook.

"Get back to your homework," Steve and Connie yelled back.

1940, New York City, Brooklyn

Connie gaped, her heart racing as Bucky watched her closely. "You can't… be serious," she whispered, stepping away from him. "Us? Us?"

He blinked his bright blue eyes, confusion washing over him. "You… you don't want to?"

"Why on earth would you want to take me to a dance?" she scoffed.

He leaned back in his seat, arching an eyebrow at her. She inwardly cursed herself for having such an attractive neighbor. That little smirk when he was flirting playing with her…. "Maybe I want to go to a dance with you because you're… you're my friend," he murmured, nervously fiddling with his fingers before glancing back up to meet her gaze. "So, whaddya say?"

Her heart sank a little, but relief swept through her. If he didn't feel the way she'd thought, then she could let go of that nagging hope. "I'd like to, but Dad needs my help in the garage that night. I'm sure Betty would love to go, though."

"Yeah… yeah. Betty's a cute dame," Bucky mumbled, smiling a little too widely at her.

1943, New York City, Brooklyn

"Long time, Connie."

Connie started, whirling around. In some strange, impossible way, her heart both sank through the floor and leapt into her throat. Bucky Barnes was standing behind her, a sergeant's military uniform fitting him nicely. Sharp blue eyes glittered at her, his mouth quirked up in a smirk. "J-James," she stuttered, dropping her textbooks as the students noisily filed out of the classroom, chatting eagerly about the army man.

"My, it's been awhile," she said breathlessly as the last student stumbled out, gaping unabashedly at her former neighbor. "How have you been? How did that dance with Betty ever go?"

He grinned broadly at her. Somehow, in the last few years, his grins had gone from goofy, to warm and familiar, to… incredibly attractive. She didn't appreciate it. "Not as good as it would have been with you," he chuckled. "Speaking of dancing… do you want to go to the Stark Expo with me tonight? One last hurrah?" He saluted at her. "I ship out in the morning."

A strange lump rose up in her throat. "You're leaving? Tomorrow?"

He laughed, scuffing the floor with his shiny shoe. "Yeah. Thought I'd say goodbye to one of my best friends." He grinned at her again, all straight white teeth and sky blue eyes and the faint scent of his aftershave. She hadn't forgotten what it smelled like.

"Right.. yeah," she replied, still breathless for some incredibly stupid reason she didn't want to contemplate. "I'll miss seeing you and Steve stumbling back from those fights you always got into. Thank goodness I learned how to stitch up wounds, hm?"

He laughed again, his eyes crinkling up in amusement before a somber mood came over him. "Steve will be safe here. He keeps trying to enlist but…" He sighed, his shoulders slumping. "I just don't want him to see all the evil that's out there. I wish he could become an artist, and just… stay safe. With you. Both of you. Who knows, I'll probably come back and the two of you will have three kids together or something-"

"NO!" Clara said emphatically. He blinked in surprise. "We're friends, James. Get that through your thick skull."

"I don't know, it's gotten pretty thin after all those punches I got to the head fighting alongside Steve," Bucky replied dryly, glancing briefly at her to see if she'd smiled. He sighed as she frowned at him. "So if you and Steve aren't in love, that means I have to find a date for him."

"I'll get Emma to come," Connie replied hastily. Bucky nodded, staring out at the schoolyard.

"So will you come with me?" he asked, pulling himself up to his full height and tilting his head to the side like he did when he was trying to be cocky and impressive. She pursed her lips, brushing a thread off his broad shoulders.

"I suppose so," she sighed, grinning back at up at him.

Before she could react, a finger had tipped up her chin, and he planted a soft kiss on her mouth. "I was hoping you'd say yes," he breathed, winking at her before pulling away.

It wasn't until a few moments after he'd left that she realized she was still gaping at the doorway.

Later that day….

Connie grinned, twirling in front of the mirror. Satisfied with her dress and hair, she nodded at her reflection. "You're a good looking dame," she said in her best impression of Bucky's voice. Giggling a little more childishly than she cared to acknowledge, she rushed out the door, her heels clacking loudly against the pavement.

The city was fairly quiet as she strolled along, her eyes scanning the streets in case Bucky would greet her two blocks early. Something clicked in the shadows of an alley. She frowned, pausing and staring into the darkness. "Hello?"

Something whirred softly. Her palms grew a little sweaty. "Hello?" she called again, a little more hesitantly. Brave heart, Connie.

"Out of the way!"

She barely had time to register the shout as a middle-aged man leaped by, dressed eccentrically. Something huge, silver, and just enough human-like to send her heart plummeting stepped out, raising its arm. "NO!" she shouted, jumping into its path. Her head whirled with some faint memory, the one that had plagued her ever since she could remember. "Run!" she called to the man.

A surge of energy passed through her, and she convulsed on the ground. "You… will… be… deleted…" An inhuman voice roared as the world went dark.

"Mother?" Connie whispered as another figure appeared in the distance. "How…?"

Her body slumped, lifeless. Two blocks away, Bucky paced back and forth, eager for his first date with Connie Oswald.


	2. Chapter 2: Time Is Changing

**2014, London, England**

"No, I don't have time to go out with you tonight," Clara sighed, shoving past the Doctor as he frowned at her.

"I'm a Time Lord, and you can have as much time as you want," he protested, his bushy eyebrows knitted in frustration.

"Maybe I don't want to go out tonight at all!" she retorted, throwing a soapy sponge at him. She sighed, staring down at the stack of dishes. They were mocking her.

"I suppose this is about some student or other?" the Doctor blurted rudely.

"Maybe I'm just having a bad day, okay?" Clara huffed, rubbing her temples. "You may be outside of time and space but my world is messed up in the slow, long march of time or however you want to think of it. There's scary stuff that happens, okay?"

He pursed his lips, eyeing her sharply. "And what, exactly, has troubled your mind today?"

She sighed shakily, clutching the kitchen counter. "I don't know. Something called Hydra. It was all over the internet. It's spreading like… like poison from a wound. Whatever it is, it's horrible. That Captain that defeated the aliens in New York City is believed to be dead, trying to fight it. They were going to kill millions."

"Humanity disgusts me sometimes," the Doctor hissed through clenched teeth.

"Yeah, me too. But you know what would have been nice? You," she poked him in the chest, "could have stopped this. You could have warned humanity! I'd like to know why you didn't!"

"Time is changing, Clara," he sighed, avoiding her gaze. "And besides, I may protect Earth from outside forces that it's not prepared for, but it's a good deal harder to protect it from itself…." He trailed off, about to speak something else before she interrupted him.

"But it's not impossible," Clara huffed, pulling the drain from her sink. "So no. I don't want to go with you today. I'm a little disgusted with everyone, frankly."

"We don't have time to be disgusted, Clara," the Doctor sighed, rubbing his temples. "Look at your paper."

"I don't want to look at my newspaper; I already know-"

"LOOK AT YOUR PAPER!"

She huffed again, snatching up her folded newspaper and glaring over the headlines. Or, at least she would have glared… if there had been any headlines. It was blank. Her stomach flip-flopped inside her.

"Time has been changed, Clara. It's changing right now. And there's a Cyberman causing it."

She stared at him, her stomach knotting nervously. "What do we do?"

"What we always do. We fix it." He extended his hand, and Clara knew it was worse than she had imagined. The dishes would have to wait.

2014, Washington D.C., USA

Slosh, slosh.

Winter sighed heavily, leaning down against a stump and pulling off his water-filled boots. He stared around him at the forest, listening carefully for any sound of trickling water. He needed to wash off his scent as soon as possible. The pain-givers would be looking for him. Any moment now, they'd find him.

And he'd be in pain again.

"Bucky Barnes," he mouthed the words aloud. They tasted strangely familiar. The face had seemed even more familiar when he'd seen it at the museum where the red, white, and blue man had stared at him from photographs.

The End of the Line.

His exhaustion coursed through him. Slumping down against the ground, he promised himself five minutes of rest. He didn't even get that much when he was with the pain-givers. But today, today he just needed a moment. It felt oddly exhilarating to decide. His mouth twisted strangely. What was that called?

A smile.

Winter drifted off into sleep, his fists slowly relaxing as he dreamed about a flying red car, and dancing the night away, and saying goodbye. It was a good dream.

He didn't wake up in time to see the silver figure appear by his side.

**1943, New York City, Central Park**

Something was whooshing and wheezing, and it hurt her head.

Connie Oswald opened her eyes, blinking up at the ceiling in the dim light. "Where am I?" she croaked.

"Oh, well that's fantastic, that is," an annoyed voice sighed in the distance. "Just when I was going to put you back home."


	3. Chapter 3: In the Shadows

**1946, Classified Location, Hydra Base**

"Winter."

Punch.

"Winter!"

Smack.

"WINTER!"

With a huff, Winter pulled away from the punching bag, the grinding and creaking of his metal arm failing to distract him from the pristine scientist glaring at him from the other side of the gate. He didn't recognize this one, but then again every day had become progressively hazier since… he didn't know when.

"Report for duty!" the scientist said shrilly, clutching his clipboard a little closer to his chest. If it hadn't been for the electric volts surging through the fence between the two, Winter could have easily strangled the skinny man's throat in under a minute. But Winter didn't kill needlessly. Especially frail, skinny men. There was something about that fact that bothered him.

"I don't see what duty I'm reporting for," Winter replied grimly, turning back to the battered punching bag. "More like slavery, the way I see it."

"It doesn't matter how you see it," the scientist snorted, amusement tinging his nasally tone. "You're not even you! You are an animal. And animals are only used for menial labor. Pity, though. Your brain would be-"

"Enough!" Winter snarled, his metal fist slamming into the bag. He marched to the gate, staring down into the scientist's gleaming eyes. "Reporting for duty," he hissed, his teeth clenched tightly. The thin man's lips curled upward in a pale smirk, marking something off on his clipboard. "Reporting for duty!" Winter repeated, the scars along his left shoulder bursting with pain as they did when he became tense and irritated.

"Docility has improved. Excellent, excellent…." The scientist murmured to himself. He shot Winter another cold sneer. "Much better than yesterday."

"What happened yesterday?!" Winter screamed after the man as the scientist disappeared down another hallway. With a grunt of frustration, he turned back to the punching bag, but stopped just before he hit it.

"They've been doing that to you for days; insulting you, degrading you, ordering you…. Each day you've been a little less stubborn. A little less you."

Winter gaped at the woman for a split second before shaking his head with a scowl. "It's nothing. They're just playing with me. Where'd you come from, anyway?"

The woman tilted her head, and his eyes trained in on the flashing silver devices attached to both her ears. "The shadows," she replied quietly.

"What kind of answer is that?" he snapped, suddenly more irritable than ever. She didn't seem to pose a threat to him or the scientist… although he wasn't sure why he'd care about them. In fact, the woman seemed rather frail, her eyes pale and unseeing.

"What kind of name is Winter?" the woman replied. He opened his mouth, frowning as soon as the question registered. "But they have been playing with you. It's what your masters do."

"And they aren't your masters, too?"

She laughed, a bitter, icy laugh that sent chills down even his spine. "Oh. They wish."

**2014, Washington D.C., USA**

Clara inhaled sharply. "Ew."

"That's the smell of America, for you," the Doctor chuckled, peering out from behind her as cars zoomed by. "But I didn't bring you here for the hot dogs and lemonade stands."

"Rather glad you didn't," Clara retorted, barely dodging a pedestrian intent only on their mobile device. "So… any particular reason we're here? I thought time was falling apart and bad things were happening."

"Aren't they always?" the Doctor replied rather dryly. He caught Clara's hand before she could jab him spitefully in the ribs. "I'm serious, Clara. We are here for a purpose." He narrowly avoided a girl running by with at least seven poodles. "We need to find a man named Steven Rogers."

"You mean the man who died in the whatever it was, Hydra attack?"

"Nearly died," he corrected her. "He's actually alive. But not for much longer, if we're not careful."

"Is he on the verge of death?" Clara asked in horror.

"No, he's recovering quite nicely. But back in the 40s he's about to die of pneumonia." The Doctor glanced down at his watch, his eyebrows drawing even closer in a sharp frown.

"But… the serum. I read about it in a news article!"

"Well, it can't do much good if he never gets it in the first place, now can it? Shut up!" He placed his hand over her mouth before she could speak another word. "We're breaking into a hospital and kidnapping an Avenger. Really not the time for casual conversation."

"Shut up," Clara grumbled, pulling out her umbrella as the rain began to pour.


	4. Chapter 4: Who Are You?

1943, Unknown Location

Connie gaped up at the almost-bald man staring down at her. Her heart raced inside her, and she shook her head violently. Hadn't some silver man just attacked her? Her sweaty palms slid against the cold floor beneath her. "Who… who are you?" she asked loudly, quelling the fear inside her. Whoever he was, he probably couldn't be trusted.

"I could ask the same of you… _Clara_." His eyes narrowed, only bringing more attention to his unfortunately large nose. She wondered at his accent. It definitely wasn't American.

She tilted her head, bemused. "If you seem to think you know my name, how come you want to know who I am?"

He frowned back at her, playing uncomfortably with a scarf hanging around his neck, his ratty coat unfit for his tall, lanky body. She arched her eyebrows, waiting for an answer. "I recognize you," he finally huffed, turning back to the glowing thing behind him.

With his back to her, Connie glanced around her surroundings. Dim lights flickered from a strange, arched ceiling. Distant wheezing and whining emanated from some machinery nearby. Slowly, she rose to her feet, shaking her head again as dizziness swept through her. "What happened?" she croaked, her entire body aching with a dull pain.

"That's a very good question, Clara."

She rubbed her forehead, sighing loudly. "First of all, that's _not_ my name. I'm not even sure I want you knowing my name! I don't know yours, so, yours first and then maybe I tell you my actual name." She crossed her arms stubbornly, ignoring the pounding in her head and the shaking in her hands.

The man turned back to her, his stormy eyes focused on her and his eyebrows creased in a deep frown. "Even if I knew who I was, shouldn't you already know?"

Connie laughed nervously, her eyes darting around to find a possible exit to this strange, flashing, whirring room. "Why would I know who you are?"

He stepped towards her, vague recognition flashing over his face. "But I've met you, haven't I? Not that long ago. You were with the clown and the skinny man!"

She stared back at him. "Well, Steve is skinny, I suppose, but I wouldn't call Bucky a _clown_."

"Steve?"

"Who are you talking about?"

"Who are you talking about?!"

He glared down at her for a few more moments. "Your brain clearly got fried by the Cyberman."

"You know, it'd be really nice if you'd stop and _explain_ some things once and awhile!" Connie huffed, struggling to keep up with him as he paced around the circular… thing. Whatever it was. It whirred loudly at her, and she scowled down at it. "And what is this contraption, anyway?"

"You should know about the-" he muttered some garbled word.

"Yeah! I should! So tell me! I really don't like not knowing things," Connie seethed, childishly stomping her foot against the ground. "What's going on?! What's a Cyberman?"

"The thing that just killed – or nearly killed you," the man grumbled, fumbling with some switch that sent the floor lurching wildly. She shrieked, grabbing his arm as loud whirring spilled into her ears.

"What's happening?!" she yelled, shaking him violently, or was it just the way the floor was swaying beneath her?

"I really can't believe you don't remember!" the man retorted. Suddenly the room stilled, but she continued to clutch his sleeve, panting.

"Explain."

He stared down his nose at her. "Clearly we're both having memory problems today."

"I'm sorry, but I've never met you before in my life!" Connie scoffed. "What are you, some kind of lunatic?"

"Oh, sorry," he replied dryly. "I interrupted your date and saved your skin. What a horrible man I am!" He shot her one last glare before marching to a small white door she'd failed to notice before.

"Is this some kind of bizarre kidnapping?" Connie yelled after him as he yanked the doors open and stared out into the sunlight. She skidded to a stop, frowning. The sun most certainly hadn't been shining earlier. It was late evening! Her heart sunk to her stomach, and she desperately hoped this was some horrible dream. Either that or she actually had died and the afterlife was a good deal stranger than she'd bargained for.

"No," the man replied shortly, glancing down at her as she cautiously stepped foot outside. As soon as she had, she regretted it. Icy snow blasted into her face, and she shivered violently. They were standing on the side of a mountain, looking down at a window carved across the gaping canyon. She blinked.

"This… this is some kind of prank," she scoffed, backing up towards the room. She whirled around, and her head hurt even more. A blue box seemed to stare down at her, and two doors were closed, but it was the way she'd come. "This can't be possible."

"That's rich, coming from you," the man snorted.

Inhaling deeply, Connie turned back towards him. "I'm asking very politely, and that's only because I'm about to scream in your face. Where. Am. I?"

"Some Hydra base," the man replied mystically. "I heard they'd gotten their filthy hands on a Cyberman."

He stared down at her significantly.

"I literally have no idea what that's supposed to mean," she sighed.

"You're really not being very helpful, but I guess I can excuse it, seeing as how you just came back from the dead," the man replied, with an insufferable tone of forgiveness.

"Well, that's awfully kind of you. I'm still confused."

"That thing that shot you, just a few minutes ago… well, to you it was a few minutes ago… that thing's called a Cyberman. And it's loose in New York City. I don't know why, and I don't know how, but you're going to help me figure it out." He turned sharply, flinging open the doors to the mysterious blue box and marching inside. Clara shivered again, turning to join him before the doors slammed in her face.

"OI!" she exclaimed, quite to her surprise. (Where had that phrase come from?) She hammered loudly on the doors, her teeth chattering. "Let me in!"

After another moment of bone-chilling cold, the door cracked open slightly, and a long nose poked out. "Promise to behave?"

"I promise," she agreed through gritted teeth. "As long as you'll tell me your name!"

"The Doctor." He swung the door open, ushering her in with a rather large grin. "And yours? Although I daresay I know you better than you know yourself." He chuckled to himself as the doors closed behind her. She shivered again, her eyes and nose watering as comforting heat surrounded her.

"C-C-Connie Oswald," she chattered, rubbing her arms briskly. "Now take me back to where I came from, however you got me from there. I want to go back… Doctor."

He stared at her for a moment, his stormy eyes softening in something that almost looked like sorrow. Then he chuckled, flipping another switch. "Connie, we've got a Cyberman to catch. The end of the world trumps your date."


End file.
